


Eternity

by whensheflies



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Fountain of Youth, Fountain of Youth AU, Gen, past Sparrabeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:10:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whensheflies/pseuds/whensheflies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In present day, Jack Sparrow goes for a stroll about London town and finds himself face to face with an old friend. Fountain of Youth!fic. Not canon compliant with OST.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted in 2012 on lj.

To the average eye, he looked just like everyone else. Ordinary though he seemed, he was anything but. Most people passed him on the street without batting an eyelash; such was the way of society. People moving quickly through life to get from one place to the next, only few stop to smell the metaphorical roses. Or in his case, only few paused to look him in the eye.

He tended towards tropical climates, places like Florida or the Hawaiian islands. In these places sunglasses were the norm, but for him, they were a mask of anonymity. A necessity for his life. It suited him, this speedy way of life, for he didn’t want to be seen.

But on this day, he found himself in London where the overcast grey skies did not lend itself to his beloved mask. On this day, he settled for a felt fedora hat, tipped low to shield his eyes from most unsuspecting passersby. Even this wouldn’t protect him completely. It was inevitable that someone would make eye contact with him today. The young woman at the ticket kiosk for the British Museum or that bloody curator who hovered in the exhibit room.

What exactly would these people see, these lucky and damned fools? Dark eyes. Darker than natural with unfathomable depths. Tantalizing pools of wisdom shrouded in mystery and an undeniable power. And if one looked longer than what was considered polite, if one _gazed_ into his obsidian eyes they would see more than a lifetime’s worth of sorrow and joy. One might see eternity in his eyes. But most only needed a glimpse before they turned a blind eye, afraid of comprehending what they’d seen. Or they simply threw themselves at him, wanting to taste the unknown.

"One ticket please." he said, careful to keep his head bent low so the brim of his hat shielded his eyes.

Once inside the museum, he quickened his pace, floating through the mummy room and found himself at the doors of the special exhibit hall. He didn't stop to read the signs outside having been to this room many times before. Much to his liking, the crowd was light that day in the exhibit hall. His feet guided him mindlessly, first to an oil painting illuminated in a small alcove. Underneath the portrait read: “Elizabeth Swann, King of the Brethren Court. Artist Unknown. Swann was the only female to ever hold the title of King of the Brethren Court and her tenacity led her to become one of the most well-known and feared pirates of her day, perhaps only second to the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow. According to myth, it was Sparrow who located the mystical Fountain of Youth and while Swann was offered to share the wealth with him, she declined and went on to live her mortal life. Swann’s account of this event was the last recorded mention of Jack Sparrow’s whereabouts. Whether he vanished soon after or still walks amongst us today are open to scholarly debate.”

A slight curl of the man’s lips revealed a glint of gold. Damn Elizabeth for writing that bloody journal, giving away all their secrets and history. And damn her still for not joining the ranks of the immortal with him. Try as he might, no amount of persuasion or arguments about curiosity were enough to sway her. She had wanted to live and die a pirate, and so she had.

He had mourned her for many years after her death, more so than any other woman in his life. Elizabeth had been the one to truly reawaken his desire for goodness. And despite his vain choice of eternal youth, he remained on the straight and narrow. Piracy had long gone out of style and so he adapted accordingly. He loved many women after Elizabeth, but none left such a lasting impression on him as she had. And so, he found himself following the exhibit, like a dedicated groupie of a famous rock band. He chased the memory of his life and love on the Caribbean from city to city.

Pressing a kiss to his fingers, he moved them to the portrait, tracing Elizabeth's lips. "Pirate." he growled softly, remembering her foolish betrayal, the beginning of it all, the beginning of their tumultuous affair. He left the painting with a parting smile and returned to the main part of the exhibit hall.

For the first time that day, he raised his eyes, heedless of other peoples' stares.

She stood proud and triumphant, the main centerpiece of the exhibit. She remained to this day, the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. The Pearl was now just a relic, but once she had been the fastest, most feared ship in the Caribbean. He hated to see her out of the water, but he was pleased to know she hadn't been lost to the depths, or worse, an unworthy captain.

Underneath his fingers, she still was smooth, preserved by meticulous museum staff. The fantastical history of the ship was no longer a secret to the world, but he knew that many people chalked her dark visage up to nothing more than an eccentric captain and a coat of black paint. How wrong they were, insulting her memory like that. His fingers danced along the cool underbelly of her, his touch intimate like the reunion of a long lost lover.

"Ahem."

A voice startled him out of his reverie.

"We ask that you please refrain from touching the--"

Jack Sparrow took that moment to look up, catching the eye of the young male curator who interrupted his silence. He watched as the curator's eyes widened, but he did not look away.

"It's you." the curator stumbled over his words now, "My apologies, sir."

"Aye, it's me. But here's a little suggestion, mate. Forget my face. Don't mention me. Everyone will think you've lost it. I'm just a myth, remember? Just a story."

The curator nodded, but made no move to leave or break eye contact. Indeed, the man was entranced and Jack was not in the mood for it.

"Yes, of course, sir. I-If you would like to return this evening, I would gladly give you a private tour. After hours."

The curator's meaning was unmistakable. Jack smiled and shook his head, his eyes looking away and back to his _Pearl_. "That won't be necessary, but thank you all the same. I must be on my way now."

With a little bow, he was out of the exhibit hall and away from the lusty curator in no time. The cool London air hit him like a breath of fresh air. As much as he loved the exhibit, he loathed being indoors. Being out in the open was one thing he couldn't grow out of.

Jack Sparrow had lost track of his age. Time was merely a trifle, it was living that was important. He'd seen and experienced more horror and death than any other living thing because of his choice, but not once did he regret making it. He was searching for something in particular now--Elizabeth's diary. In his back pocket was a scribbled address for a rare book seller's shop and he was almost sure he would find it there. After all, he'd been searching for it for over two hundred years. Jack Sparrow was a patient man, but even a saint grows weary of patience. And Jack was no saint, no matter how hard his dear Pirate King had tried to make him out to be. He would find her diary and he would use any means to get it.


End file.
